


Feels Like Forever

by NothingxRemains



Series: Roots and Leaves [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brief recap of Thor, Events of Infinity War briefly mentioned, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to write happy things okay, Loki's a mess, Loki-centric, M/M, Rebirth, Soulmates, but warning anyway, lets just put it that way, like blink and you'll miss it kind of thing, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingxRemains/pseuds/NothingxRemains
Summary: There is something wrong with him, he thinks. When he goes to sleep at night there is a horrible, yawning abyss that screams inside of him, hollowing him out and tearing at the remaining shell. It is inescapable and all-consuming.





	1. No One Ever Tells You That Forever Feels Like Home, Sitting All Alone Inside Your Head

For a long time, he raged. He yelled at the top of his lungs and lashed out with his magic, clawed at the magic barrier until his hands bled, until the visceral pain dimmed the screaming in his soul, if only a little. His mind filled with soft brown eyes and clever, calloused hands; soft lips quirked in absent smile, parted in a helpless laugh, shaped in insurmountable agony. He cried and screamed, begged for his Anthony back, for the pain to stop, for someone to end him. Countless times he clawed at himself, at his neck and his eyes and choked on his blood, only to be subdued and healed every time, and left to his own madness again.

That was a long time ago.

Now his eyes only close when unconsciousness catches him unawares. Wordless screams greet him in the dark behind his eyelids, and an agonized moan leaves him as the waking world finds him again. He wishes he never had to hear that voice again, and in equal measure he would do anything for the chance to. It haunts him every moment. He has long stopped seeing the white walls of his prison, stopped feeling the ache in his back from laying on the ground so long. Even the voices beyond no longer manage to pierce the veil of his awareness. His cell is small, but his world is tiny. Even the happy memories of the person he most cherished are lost to him, and the longing has left him. There is nothing but the screaming, and the knowledge that there is only suffering now. It is a fact of life, the only reason he still breathes is so that he will suffer.

Every once in a while, when he's suspended in the balance between sleeping and waking (and he's not sure that there's a difference anymore, only knows that when he is asleep he can see the face that voice belongs to and he feels like he's dying all over again) he wonders how much time has passed. Wonders if he will die of old age and the screaming will stop. Knows it is a mercy he would not deserve.

Sometimes a shadow will fall over him. Movement crosses his view it sparks something, whispers at the ghost of a memory. It quiets the sounds that fill his mind. It is a mercy he does not deserve, and its then he will close his eyes and let the agony consume him. When he opens them again(minutes, hours, centuries later) the shadow is gone, and he doesn't altogether remember it was there to begin with.

Sound no longer escapes him when the visions leave him, only a muted rasping in his throat. There's an endless white above him and he forgets what it means, forgets why it's important, forgets it is there at all when the voice finds him again. There is only the screams.

Forever passes.

On a distant planet, a malevolent creature snaps his fingers.

And then it is the end.

 

* * *

 

Memories of before always carry over. Bits and pieces of the life before, impressions carved into the soul as it is reborn into the new cycle, outlining the future in the same lines of fates passed. Destined to walk the same path; destined to fall, destined to break and shine and persevere until the end comes, and begin again.

Loki learns that this is the meaning of Fate. That he has lived many lifetimes, walked many paths. Just as he knows that everyone has a soulmate--someone they are irrevocably tied to, meant for, woven together by the threads of Fate. There is no one without the other, even spending a lifetime before meeting, knowing someone just for them is out there somewhere, existing, waiting. To end one is to end both, for they are one in the same, two halves of the same whole.

There is something wrong with him, he thinks. When he goes to sleep at night there is a horrible, yawning abyss that screams inside of him, hollowing him out and tearing at the remaining shell. It is inescapable and all-consuming. He doesn't remember anything when he wakes, just the impression of such horrible agony. Sometimes awareness finds him slowly, and he comes to in his mother's arms still screaming, throat raw as if he had been doing it for hours. It cuts off abruptly as he realizes its coming from him. He shakes in her embrace and cries into her robes, watches heartbreak form in the lines of her face as he asks her why he was born broken.

 

* * *

 

Centuries pass and this pain becomes a part of him. He withdraws from his loved ones and smooths down his frayed edges with a honeyed voice and silver words. He tells himself that there's nothing wrong with him, he's just a little different but that's fine because he knows how to hide it, how to compensate. Nevermind that magic is a woman's art(and he hates that it makes him lesser in the eyes of others, for women are formidable creatures and there is nothing lesser about them). Nevermind that his combat is quick and nimble, aided by sharp daggers and none of the power of a heavy sword or fearsome hammers--and in this he is lesser, for everyone is lesser in the face of Thor's golden might. He tells himself he is fine with this, would never want to be equal to an enabled bloodthirsty warmonger. He only believes this lie most of the time.

He is more than a thousand years old and he has yet to meet the person destined for him. He wonders if they even exist, and if that is the reason he feels like his soul is reaching out for something that is not there, and never will be.

The coronation comes to pass, and then it doesn't. Frigga tells him he isn't a monster and he almost believes her, almost believes that everything isn't falling apart at his fingertips, that he can _fix_ this.

He fails, as he always does. And then he falls, as he is destined to.

In the void time stretches on forever, and for all he feels he is being shredded from the outside, it is a small relief from the pain that's haunted him every night since birth. If nothing else, it is a new, different kind of pain, and that's all that matters.

 

* * *

 

And then there is Thanos. (And what more is there to say, really, then that?)

 

* * *

 

The tesseract spits him out on Midgard and everything inside him shakes but he forges on, he cannot fail(he thinks it with all the fear and conviction of a survivor, Thanos a constant, looming threat in his mind), and for the time being that is all that matters.

He lords over these mortals that kneel before him, revels in their fright with a twisted kind of relish. Fights with the hero that opposes him with a bloodthirst that tastes like ash in his mouth.

And then a suit of armor flies down from the sky, and everything shifts. Something in Loki stutters, grinds to a halt as he lays eyes on it, heart pounding in his ears. There's a long, drawn out silence, and then--

“Loki?”

The metal helmet folds away reveals-- _soft brown eyes and clever, calloused hands; soft lips quirked in absent smile, parted in a helpless laugh, shaped in insurmountable agony--_

“ _Anthony,”_ he chokes out, and he knows. Every night he's suffered in his entire life, and in the life before, every moment of insurmountable pain and it's still not enough, because he remembers what he did.

Anthony takes a tentative step closer and a strangled, desperate sound tears from him. He's dimly aware of his armor disappearing as he drops the scepter and scrambles back, suddenly weak under the crushing weight of his despair. Helpless against the way his legs fold under his weight, unable to stop the sudden tremors in his limbs or the tears obscuring his sight or his shuddering breath. The heavy footsteps of machinery halt for a moment before continuing, determined, and  a sob threatens to escape him as he fails to get away fast enough. _No, please_ , he thinks, _I don't want to hurt you again_.

A metal hand closes around his arm and he immediately goes limp, unwilling to risk hurting him even by accident in his desperate flailing. He doesn't fight it as he's dragged to his feet and held half upright because his knees won't support him, trembling violently as he is. Metal fingers slide under his cheek and tilt his head up and for all it is a weapon the touch is gentle, and it twists at all the painful things inside of him as he's coaxed into looking up. Through blurry eyes he can barely see Anthony, but he sees enough before he closes them as though the sight burns him. He weeps harder and gasps for breath, struggling feebly, but all the fight has left him. He manages to pull his chin free and turn his face away in shame, but that is all.

There's an arm around his waist and he's being guided towards the sound of engines. He doesn't fight it, the arm supporting him more than restraining him as he stumbles along like a newborn foal, so weak he can't even lift his head properly, but he goes. Anthony is a bright burning presence beside him and Loki is hyperaware of him, and he knows he will not deny the man anything, even his own death, for anything demanded of him will still be less than he owes. He nearly falls as he steps onto the ramp without seeing it, only held upright by the arms around him, and walks on blindly. He is lowered gently onto the metal floor and is soon as he is released he immediately tries to crawl away, pathetically still trying to put distance between them even as he surrenders. There's a series of loud mechanical whirs as he finds the wall and curls up against it.

A warm, calloused hand curls around the nape of his neck and sets his whole body alight with sharp, agonizing clarity. Every aching moment he's felt the pain of his snapped soul bond suddenly coalesces into one, endless moment.

He comes back to himself and he sobs as he's drawn away from the wall into a gentle embrace. It _aches_ and he can't _breathe_ , his face is tucked into his soulmates throat and he can't help but drink in his scent greedily even as he begs in a hoarse whisper _it's not safe, Anthony please._

The throat against his forehead vibrates as Anthony shushes and rocks him gently, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder. The tenderness breaks something inside of him and suddenly he's sobbing uncontrollably, body wracking with the force of them as he curls into himself in Anthony's embrace. It's been thousands of years since he's felt this man's presence, since the severed nerves of his damaged soul reached out and felt something reach back, something he'd never thought he'd feel again, didn't deserve to. He still doesn't, but he's so weak--too weak to get away, too weak to protect the man from himself, too selfish to deny what he's longed for his entire life. (Bonds take time to form fully, and he knows he will hurt every moment of it, for it is nothing less than he deserves).

Dimly he is aware of something happening around them. He thinks he hears a crackle of thunder, and then a voice he knows is familiar but even as it pains him to be anywhere near Anthony it frightens him to leave the arms that have already ensared him even for a moment, and hides in the soft curve of Anthony's neck. It is a long time before he calms down, and by then the voices have all gone and even the hum of the machinery around them has died. Nothing fills the silence but their breathing, Anthony's slow even inhales a counterpoint to Loki's slightly quicker hitching breaths. His galloping heart beat begins to slow after a while, still faster than the one under his ear but enough to where everything slowly filters in again. They are alone and it is dark, the quiet whistle of wind outside the ship reaching his ears.

Eventually Anthony shifts and instantly he misses the warmth of his shoulder as cool air rushes up to kiss his heated cheek, sucking in a shaky breath as he tentatively looks up. In the dim light the mortal's face is creased with emotion(he can’t tell what, his mind is scrambled and his heart is heavy) and his eyes are deep and searching. After a moment he leans in and Loki closes his eyes at the proximity, feels soft lips press against one eyelid and then the other, pulse fluttering and heart aching as he feels a puff of breath against his mouth a moment before Anthony's mouth finds his. It doesn't stray beyond a dry, lingering press of lips but the tenderness of it makes him tremble all the same. He's afraid, he doesn't want to risk hurting his beloved again but he's exhausted, he's been suspended in own personal hell since the beginning of time and he just wants it to _end_. And soon maybe, when he recovers a little he can find strength to pry himself away, but there is acceptance in these arms and for now, that is enough.


	2. When Thought Came From The Heart (It Never Did Right From The Start)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Took a little longer than I expected, and I didn't quite get as far as I meant to so guess what, there's gonna be a sequel! Probably, I've got ideas for one, at least.
> 
> Anyway, Tony's POV, everyone.

Everybody is born with a soulmate; this is something that Tony knows, as does everybody else on the planet. When he was young and miserable he found solace in speculating this person that was supposed to be his other half, his perfect match--what they would look like, if they would be protective of him. He’s heard other people describe what its like to meet that person: one look at them and you just _know_ , and suddenly you can’t look away from them, can’t breathe without them.

As he got older and lost himself in his misery, in faceless bodies and unhealthy amounts of alcohol, he would torment himself with this elusive person he had yet to meet. _I need to try harder for them_ , he would think, knowing he was a mess with horrible coping mechanisms and self-destructive tendencies and a megaton of issues. Other times he would think, _maybe we’re destined to destroy each other_. He’s seen it happen; people with soulmates twenty years older than them, or soulmates that died in tragic accidents, or in combat, you always knew, because the other half never survived, soul shattered by the death of their other half.

That was the theory, anyway. Nobody knew the exact science of souls, what determined who they bonded to or how.

After Afghanistan, he thinks _this is right, this is the kind of person worthy of their soulmate_. A hero, someone who did good and didn’t spend half his time building things that killed people and trying to destroy himself the rest of the time.

Obadiah tries to kill him again, but he lives. Vanko tries to kill him. Hammer tries to kill him. The very thing keeping him alive tries to kill him. And each time he thinks, _maybe I don’t have a soulmate after all_.

But he lives. He starts to believe that he’s only alive because he’s meant for something greater, something grander than anything he’s every done in his entire life(which, admittedly, was a lot). Maybe he and his soulmate are meant to protect the world together.

 

* * *

 

And then Coulson  shows up. He’s skimming over the information given to him while Pepper and the agent’s voice fade behind him. He pulls up footage of their enemy from the facility, and his breath catches. His eyes are glued to the small figure on the security camera feed, watches as he brainwashes people and walks out of the facility casual-as-you-please. By the time he finishes the video his heart is pounding, and he glances at the written report in the file.

_Loki._

He’s caught between excitement and denial, because he doesn’t actually have an explanation for the way he’s reacting to see this person. And at the same time, the guy on the screen looks wrung out and batshit crazy, who stole the tesseract without hardly lifting a finger, who has already been assigned as his enemy and they haven’t even met yet. Oh yeah, and he’s an alien, did Tony mention that?

He’s suspended in a state of guilty anticipation the entire way to Stuttgart, can’t help but entertain the possibility. Why the fuck did he become a hero if his soulmate was a bad guy? A familiar thought crosses his mind.

_Maybe we’re destined to destroy each other._

He thinks of hacking the system and playing music, some of his usual dramatic flair, but he’s too nervous for it. He gets there in time to see Rogers on the ground and by the time he lands they’re at a standoff. He can see Loki through the hub of helmet, sees the way green eyes catch on him and widen, all the arrogance melting away with uncertainty. His heart is pounding. Nobody moves.

“Loki?” he tries, once he’s certain the man won’t attack, and folds down his helmet.

Everything narrows down to the man standing in front of him, like the center of gravity shifting. He sees it hit Loki like a punch, his whole face contorting with a mix of fear and despair. There’s a dull ache somewhere in his chest and he takes a tentative step forward.

 _"_ _Anthony,”_ Loki says it like it hurts him, and the ache in his chest sharpens briefly at the sound of his name. He doesn’t understand, the way Loki looks at him like everything is falling apart around him sets off alarms in his head. It makes him hesitate but he can’t fight the invisible pull, the need to touch, to know. The scepter clatters to the ground as Loki trips on the steps behind him but he barely notices it, can’t focus past the desperate sounds Loki is making and the sight of his armor melting away while he scrambles across the pavement like his legs won’t hold him up anymore. It hurts him but he doesn’t stop until he has a firm grip on him. The second he touches him Loki goes limp in his grasp, a deadweight, and he doesn’t understand what could cause such a reaction, doesn’t understand what’s happening to the Asgardian. Sure they were enemies, but they were soulmates, so it should have been a simple conversation: my side or yours? But it’s not, it’s not that simple and he doesn’t know why.

Determined, Tony pulls him to his feet and he doesn’t fight but he doesn’t help either, head hung towards the ground in defeat. He tips Loki’s face towards him, gentle as he can with the suit, and sucks in a sharp breath when he sees tears streaming down his face. Watery green eyes find his for a moment before they squeeze shut and the look on his face twists into one of pain, like it hurts him to look at Tony for even a second. The tears come faster and Loki struggles to get out of his grasp, turning his head away as though in shame.

His soulmate is broken, he realizes. He doesn’t know how or why, doesn’t know what happened to the confident megalomaniac that kicked the Captain’s ass not a few minutes before, doesn’t know why meeting his soulmate was like a dam breaking open. But this person, this broken creature in his arms is his soulmate and he’s determined to fix it one way or another, enemies be damned.

He guides Loki to the quinjet as gently as he can. He’s stopped once by a hand on his shoulder, and he struggles to focus beyond the the god tucked into his side, and he sees bewildered blue eyes looking back at him. “He’s my soulmate, he’s--it’s okay, I’ve got him,” he says, a little surprised at how steady his voice comes out.

They make it to quinjet slowly, and he wonders if Loki is aware of his surroundings at all. He sets him down so he can get his suit off, so he can _touch_ him properly, but the second he sets him down Loki is scrambling away from him again. As he curls up against the wall he realizes the god’s not trying to escape, he’s trying to get away from Tony, and it _hurts_. But they’re soulmates, damnit, he’s going to fix this. He gets the suit off as fast he can, carelessly letting them drop noisily around him until finally, finally its off. He slides his fingers under the hair at his neck and Loki reacts to the touch like he’s been struck by lightning. Tony grits his teeth against the burning at his eyes, Loki needs him and he can’t help them if they’re both a mess. He’s fucked up a lot of things in his life but he’s determined to do this right.

A horrible sound claws its way out of Loki’s throat as Tony draws him into the shelter of his body, arms curled around him and knees propped up to surround him as much as he can, like he can protect him from whatever is upsetting him. He’s shaking his head and his breathing is ragged.

“ _It’s not safe, Anthony please_ ,” and he barely hears it, but he does, and he thinks he understands Loki’s fear, if only a little, but he shushes him anyway and holds him a little tighter.

It’s like opening the floodgates; Loki sinks into him and starts sobbing like a small child, his whole body trembling in a way Tony didn’t notice before because of the suit. He does his best to sooth him with his hands and his body, murmuring reassurances in his ear quietly.

 

* * *

 

They’ve been in the air for maybe twenty minutes when the thunder starts up. Loki tenses up in his arms but otherwise doesn’t react, and Tony looks up to see Natasha looking around in confusion. _That can’t be good_ , he thinks, and then there’s a heavy impact near the back that makes the whole ship lurch with the strength of it. Rogers stumbles and Tony’s grip on Loki tightens as they slide a few inches into the wall and stay there. There’s a sound like knocking, and after a brief exchange of confused glances, Natasha opens the quinjet up. The Captain manages to take a couple steps before a giant man of blond hair and strange armor jumps down into the mouth of the ship. Tony takes one look at him, and the guy looks back at him and immediately knows  he’s there for Loki. And then his brain catches up, takes in the thunderstorm and the giant medieval hammer and remembers _Loki, brother of Thor._ He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because when the guy first landed he looked angry, but after spotting Loki tucked away in his arms it quickly morphed to one of worried confusion.

“Can we help you?” Rogers finally asks, drawing the guy’s attention away.

“I am Thor of Asgard, I’ve come for my brother,” he says. Rogers hesitates and looks at Tony, as though asking. In response, Tony shifts one arm to curl his fingers around Loki’s nape and shakes his head.

“You can come with us, but he’s not going anywhere,” he says, an edge of steel in his voice. Thor opens his mouth to argue but seems to change his mind at the last second, eyes darting between Tony’s face and his brother completely unresponsive in the mortal’s arms, like he hasn’t even noticed Thor’s presence. It worries him, and he changes his words.

“What has become of him?” He asks instead. Tony presses his lips into a thin line and lets out a slow breath, looking away. “We’re soulmates. But I don’t--something’s wrong, I don’t know.” He admits, with a small hope that Thor will have some insight into this. The confusion clears on his face but the worry is no less prominent, an edge of sadness on his features.

“Ah.” He hesitates, but after a moment the words come. “When Loki was a child, he suffered a great deal from an unseen affliction. Every night he would wake screaming and crying, and he would always say his chest hurt. Between our mother’s magic and our healers… there is something wrong with his soul; it is damaged, somehow, but the nature of souls is something beyond even the All-Father.” His brow creases. “I thought it had stopped, I’ve not heard him complain about it for many centuries now--Perhaps I was wrong.”

Tony thinks of the dull pain that he’s felt in his chest since Loki said his name. Maybe its not his pain, but an echo of Loki’s pain that he can feel because they are bonded. He can’t think how much it can be hurting Loki, if what he feels is just an echo.

“That doesn’t make any sense. How can his soul be damaged? I’ve never heard of something like that,” Rogers says.

Thor shakes his head. “Aye, Loki is unique in this way, I’ve never met another with a similar condition.”

The remainder of the flight is spent in pensive silence, save for the sound of the engines. The god’s heartfelt cries have long since petered onto into shuddering breaths. There’s a damp spot on his shirt and he thinks Loki is still crying but he at least seems to have calmed down, and for that Tony lets out a quiet, relieved breath.

Natasha lands the quinjet and opens the bay. They others shuffle out of the quinjet, but he senses somebody stop just before the exit. He looks up to see Natasha standing in the mouth of the ship, the helicarrier framed behind her. “Are you coming?” She asks.

Tony shakes his head. “We’ll catch up with you guys.” She purses her lips in response but doesn’t say anything, and the ship closes behind her, darkening the interior. His shoulders sag and he leans more heavily into the wall at his side, stroking Loki’s hair silently.

He spins the problem of Loki’s soul in his mind. He was born with this… damage in his soul, as Thor put it, and if that were the case then it makes sense why it would cause him pain upon they’re bonding. People have speculated that from the moment a person is born, they’re soul is always reaching out, reaching for something that’s not there but with the unshakeable knowledge that someday something will reach back. It doesn’t entirely explain the way Loki reacted so strongly to him though. Maybe he thinks he is corrupted by this, as Tony had often tried to better himself in the name of his soulmate, and that he will somehow corrupt Tony in this way.

He’s hit then, with the realization that Loki is a god--he has lived hundreds of years before Tony was born, and will likey like a few thousand more after he dies. Except he won’t, because when one dies the other always does, as well. There’s a chance that being soulmates, his lifespan will extend to match Loki’s, but he doesn’t have any information to back it up. He’s not sure what bothers him more, cutting Loki’s life short or living long enough to watch everything he cares about wither and die around him(he thinks of Pepper then, and Rhodey, and Happy).

Enough time passes and he feels calm, and Loki sounds calm enough, sniffling quietly with an occasional hitch in his breath. Tony takes a deep breath and gently coaxes him into sitting up. Loki’s eyes, when he meets them, are glassy and red rimmed, and he looks so lost it makes Tony’s heart ache. He feels protectiveness surge through him and he can’t resist leaning in to kiss him, to soothe him, and Loki doesn’t fight him, fingers curling loosely in the collar of his shirt as he presses his lips to one eyelid and then other, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. When he presses his lips to Loki’s it is a promise: he will fix this, whatever this thing is that has left him in pieces at Tony’s feet, if it’s the last thing he does.

Loki's mouth is soft and chilled under his, and in a minute they will have to get up and face the mess waiting for them outside, but he’s finally found his soulmate, and for now, in this moment, it is enough.


End file.
